


The Dragon

by SBlackmane



Series: Midnight Madness [2]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Bi-Curiosity, Drabble, M/M, One Shot, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 14:56:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16243994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBlackmane/pseuds/SBlackmane
Summary: Cullen ruminates on the Herald of Andraste, an apostate called Adaar.(For more Cullen/Adaar, subscribe to Lion, 9:41 Dragon)





	The Dragon

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, okay, another Cullen fic. #SorryNotSorry

He'd heard stories over the years of Tal-Vashoth.

Violent maniacs cut off from the Qun, hunted down by Ben-Hassrath, that followed no rules, knew no bounds, and were not accountable for their actions as they would be were they Qunari, or even Andrastian, let alone belonging to any other sect. With no guilt, no remorse, and no minds but those of sheer madness. And Saarebas? Mages bound under Qunari hand, chained, led around on leashes like animals, with their mouths sewn shut? Even more unpredictable once freed, and even more of a danger to society.

Little better than beasts.

Yes, Commander Cullen had heard stories of such wild creatures, but Adaar contradicted every single one of those fearful tales.

What was more, Adaar contradicted everything Cullen had come to understand about the horned race of Thedas.

Didn't make him any less intimidating, however.

It was unknown as to whether or not he was truly Tal-Vashoth, or merely Vashoth, meaning he was born entirely outside of the Qun, for there was absolutely no record of his past that the Inquisition could get their hands on. No written records, no personal information. They only knew that he'd belonged to a mercenary company operating out of the Free Marches, called the Valo-Kas. Only that he and several others had been hired to keep the peace at the Conclave. Only that he alone survived the Breach, and joined the fight to restore order.

And only the Iron Bull might know if he'd ever been Qunari, for he was Ben-Hassrath, pretending to be Tal-Vashoth, but Bull had nothing to report.

He had no scars indicating a life of submission to the Qun, and whatever he was, he certainly wasn't what the Ferelden native assumed him to be at first glance. Quite the opposite, actually. Calm, passive, unobtrusive, and with marked intelligence. He spoke several languages, mainly the common tongue, but a little elvish, some dwarven, and even Antivan, to the Ambassador's delight. His travels had taken him many places in northern Thedas, and he was semi versed in it's many cultures and their customs.

And he was ever so distracting to look at, almost...beautiful, if Cullen were being honest. It was really the only word that seemed appropriate. Tall, evidently, and maybe only an inch or so shorter than Bull, but younger, leaner, with skin so dark it was nearly black, and long hair that matched in color. It spiked upward on top of his head, like a young colt, but then stretched the length of his back in a braid, that lashed like a whip whenever he turned sharply. His horns had to have been the most impressive feature.

Like those of a dragon.

Long, black, sharp, growing upward out of his head, and unlike Bull's horns, which were unsurprisingly rather oxen shaped, Adaar's own set largely resembled those of a High Dragon. And he glittered in the sun. He had a gold ring in his right ear, was dressed in something called antaam-sar, of a darkened samite cloth with gold accents. To encapsulate his ensemble he carried a golden dragon staff, often leaned on it like a walking stick, when he wasn't using it to light something ablaze with a fire spell.

He was hard to mistake, even harder to dismiss.

He was observant, but whereas the Spymaster's icy glare seemed to have this uncanny ability to violate a person, see their lies, their regrets, and their insecurities, break them down, open them up like slowly ripping off a bandage and exposing faults to the raw elements, which was unsettling...Adaar's set of chestnut eyes seemed so...warm. Kind, and free of judgement. Disarming in a sense, the way he looked at a person, seeing their faults, recognizing them, but not picking at them like a dead carcass.

He was ridiculously easy to talk to, and smiled a lot.

If not for his intimidating size - and the fact that he was a horned giant - Cullen would be smitten with him, in truth. He'd always been somewhat curious of other men, never enough to act on, but curious. Though he'd never found one he thought particularly attractive, nor even interesting. Much like women, Cullen was picky about men, perhaps even more so than women, as far as physical appearance. And Adaar? The Tal-Vashoth certainly peaked Cullen's interest, albeit mildly, but he balked at the idea of being emasculated by another man.

Which no doubt he would be, and he was in no way thrilled by the prospect of such. As well, there was another problem, aside from that.

He was a mage. An apostate, and his name literally meant 'weapon'. Since working with the Inquisition, Cullen had made a conscious effort to reevaluate his assessment of mages and their treatment, if even just to further his detatchment from the order he'd once belonged to, but he couldn't budge on the stance of relations with mages. There was so much risk, so much danger, in becoming more personably involved with one. It made it ludicrously easy to stamp down any affection for the giant, but yet his gaze would wander...

...To that dark skin, corded muscle rippling beneath it, shining with sweat whenever he indulged the Seeker or the other Tal-Vashoth at Haven in some melee training, either acting as a living practice target for the Seeker, or partitioning the Iron Bull in a friendly match. Full lips parting in a wide grin whenever he successfully evaded his opponent...

Cullen let out a puff of steam in the frigid air as he thought of it now, fully blaming the weather for the redness of his face, rather than his errant thoughts.

He glanced away from where he'd been staring just a little too intently at the mage while he engaged in conversation with Cassandra nearby, golden eyes shifting back to the recruits paired up and sparring. Where his eyes should be. Not on the Tal-Vashoth that everyone called the Herald of Andraste, however inane a title. Grinding his teeth, Cullen folded his arms and pointedly kept his eyes on the recruits, supervising their training and assisting his lieutenant with correcting their mistakes, as he waited for scouts to report in.

Adaar was an unhealthy obsession for Cullen if there ever was one, aside from his most unhealthy addiction to Lyrium, and second only to that.

Should it be his luck that none other than Adaar should approach him as he regarded the men bracing with their shields?

He strained to keep his eyes on the trainees, as the towering mage stepped lightly along the path leading to the training yard. _Maker's breath, does he have to be so tall?_ Cullen thought, seeing his long horned shadow cast on the ground. But also noticing the nearest recruit not properly using his shield, easily testing his patience. His second didn't notice the slip, nor how he would lose a limb were this an actual combat situation. Or worse, let his opponent gouge his eye out with the blunted sword in his grip.

"You there! There's a shield in your hand!" he barked, taking out his irritation on the man. "Block with it! If this man were your enemy, you'd be dead!" He turned to the soldier next to him. "Lieutenant, don't hold back! I want them prepared for a real fight, not a practice one!"

"Yes sir," he nodded.

At that moment, Adaar stopped next to Cullen, and folded his arms. Didn't have his staff today. Wouldn't be leaving for a few more days at least, as he only just returned from his last mission, and needed the rest. Not to say that he was idle. The man never rested. Was always preoccupied with something. He seemed interested in the recruits, content to watch them train, but the silence grated on Cullen's nerves. And it was just rude to blatantly ignore the mage like he wasn't there, wasn't it?

"We received a number of recruits, locals from Haven, and some pilgrims...though none made _quite_ the entrance you did," he remarked.

Adaar huffed a little, nostrils flaring, like a bull snorting...or perhaps a dragon, as the sound he made accompanied a little steam wafting from his nose due to the cold, like smoke from a winged serpent's maw. "Trust me, I never do it on purpose," he said. "But we kossith aren't exactly _subtle_."

Cullen chuckled a little. "No, perhaps not." Absently he started patrolling the training grounds as he spoke, examining the progress of the warriors, Adaar closely following in step. "I was recruited to the Inquisition in Kirkwall, myself," he relayed. "I was there during the mage uprising. I saw first hand the devastation it caused. Cassandra sought a solution. When she offered me a position, I left the Templars to join her cause. Now it seems we face something far worse."

"You sound like you really need this to work," Adaar commented, and Cullen turned on his heel to look up at him.

"We all do," he told him. "The Chantry lost control of both mages and Templars, and now they argue over a new Divine while the Breach remains. The Inquisition could act where the Chantry cannot. Our followers would be a part of that. There's so much we can-" He stopped himself, as he saw Adaar's lips slowly curve upward in an amused sort of grin. Maker, he did sound a bit preachy just then, didn't he? He exhaled a sigh. "Forgive me," he amended. "I doubt you came here for a lecture."

"No, but if you have one prepared, I'd love to hear it," Adaar quipped, his sense of humor prevailing over a more gated reply. Cullen chuckled a little. And Adaar's grin widened. Andraste preserve him, but if that smile wasn't so distracting. His heart sped up, and he shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"Another time, perhaps," he said. Then grasped at straws to keep the conversation flowing. "There's a lot of work ahead," he rambled aimlessly, but to his relief, a runner approached.

"Commander," said the man. "Ser Rylen's report on the supply lines." He handed Cullen the document in question.

"As I was saying," he told Adaar, gesturing to the report, and Adaar nodded, taking it as his cue to leave the Commander to his work. Cullen was both relieved and perturbed by the Tal-Vashoth's departure, as he stepped away and wandered off. Relieved that he no longer had to hold idle chat with him, of which he was obviously bad at, but also disappointed the conversation was drawn to a close. He'd hardly the opportunity to really get to know the mage, even just as a friend. And he found he... _liked_ talking to Adaar, surprisingly.

They rarely had the oppurtunity to speak outside the war room in the Chantry. Cullen was a bit jealous, for he so often spoke with others individually, and grew somewhat close to those he fought alongside in his travels, but not the Commander. They hadn't the chance to build somewhat a rapport like others at Haven. But perhaps that was for the best, considering there were far more important things to concern him than casual association. And he couldn't afford to be distracted like this. Not at such a crucial time.

But yet that disappointment hung in the air like smoke, pungent and suffocating.

Another missed oppurtunity.

Just once, it would be nice to not feel so cut off from people, so...alone.

But perhaps that's exactly what he deserved.

To be alone. Not to be distracted by a tall, dark, and admittedly handsome -  _but dangerous_ \- fire breathing dragon of a man.

Of which he loathed to admit he might actually be attracted to.

**Author's Note:**

> Want more Cullen/Adaar? 
> 
> Follow Lion, 9:41 Dragon!
> 
> Want more random madness I come up with at or around 12 am EST?
> 
> Follow Midnight Madness!


End file.
